Fly Fishing for Bonefish in Key Largo, Florida

There is another world fly-fisherman often talk about, a world where fish take hundreds of yards of backing off your reel in the blink of an eye. It is a world in which the hunt is silent and methodical, the casting is precise or otherwise useless and the fish are as diverse as they are powerful. It is the world of saltwater fly-fishing, and the Keys of Florida offer an opportunity for any challenge-seeking fisherman to experience the best this country has to offer. So, I made my way down the coast this past weekend in search of the "white ghost."

As I drove down Route 1, with windows down and the smell of salt and sand rushing through my nostrils, I fantasized about my first bonefish hook-up. Like the last few minutes in front of a mirror before a blind date, I ran through all the words I’d use and facial expressions I’d show when I finally met the fish of my dreams. Mentally, I practiced holding the fish for the camera. But, the curse of the Yoder family followed my small pickup truck down the coast of Florida, and met me in Key Largo. It is the dreaded curse of rain.

Nevertheless, my brilliant and fearless guide Captain Dave Yoder, who happens to be my brother, was able to use the short periods of dry daylight to put me in front of tailing bonefish. He has always had that uncanny ability to turn poor casters like myself into fish catching machines, whether it’s on the Colorado River or Biscayne Bay, and I suppose that is what has made him a sought-after guide.

My first chance at the allusive bonefish came in Rattlesnake cove, where Captain Dave spotted three charging straight for the bow of the boat. After a few instructions, I made a rare, precise cast, placing the fly feet away from the oncoming pod. A few strips of the line, and I had my first hook-up. But it was short-lived. Treating the bonefish like a brownie I hooked with a wooly bugger somewhere in the mountains of North Carolina, the bonie made a quick head-turn a darted into the distance, taking my fly and leaving my rod, line and arm in the boat. That was the last opportunity I would have.

The rest of the cloudy evening, interrupted by rain, was full of missed opportunities. Every tailing fish we approached I under- or over-shot, leaving a nervous wake as my only memory. For a first date, it was a tragedy, but I am planning for a second chance in the spring.

If you are ever interested in taking on the “white ghost” of the Keys, contact Captain Dave Yoder. In my experience, I have not come across a more professional and understanding guide as my brother. Okay, I admit a slight bias.